“And Aidan? That’s not a Jewish name.”
“In Judaism, we give kids the Hebrew names of dead relatives, so that we remember them. We carry over the first initial to whatever English name the kid gets. So I’m named after my great-grandfather, whose name was Aharon—Aaron. My parents picked an “A” name that they liked.”
“Where’d you grow up?”
“New Jersey. Just outside Trenton.”
“Hey, me, too. Jersey, at least. Little town outside New Brunswick.”
“Who’d have thought?” Aidan asked. “That two Jersey boys would run into each other in Tunisia?” He looked out the window of the train, where a camel raced across the plain in the morning sun. “Don’t have camels like that in Jersey. At least outside the zoo. Ever ride one?”
“We were doing an operation in – well, let’s just call it an Arab country—and the only way to get from point A to point B was by camel,” Liam said. “Camels are not the most well-mannered creatures around. They fidget and gurgle and chew all the time and eat whatever they can get hold of, even the water bags.”
Aidan sat back in his seat, waiting for Liam to go on. “Camels can turn their heads completely backwards, even though they have the same number of neck vertebrae as humans. When they sit down, they bend their front and back legs completely underneath their bellies and rest flat on the ground.”
“Do you think we’ll get to ride them?” Aidan asked.
Liam laughed. “It’s not something to look forward to. Even with lots of padding those saddles hurt your butt after a while.” They talked about camels, and Liam told a couple of funny stories, and then Aidan opened the guidebook to El Jem to see what they might expect. It was a popular tourist destination, with a Roman coliseum where gladiators had fought centuries before, and that was good; it meant there’d be a lot of Americans and Europeans around and they could fit in.
The conductor came around to collect tickets. He looked Liam and Aidan up and down, and for a moment Aidan worried that the police had circulated their photos. Then he recognized the look in the conductor’s eyes, and followed his gaze. He was checking out Liam’s dick, outlined against his khaki shorts.
Aidan looked the conductor in the eye, and licked his lips. The man’s face reddened, and he fumbled the tickets back to Liam and hurried from the compartment. “What was that all about?” Liam asked.
“You’ve got to work on your gaydar,” Aidan said, laughing. “Either that, or wear looser shorts.” He rested his hand on Liam’s dick, and gave him a knowing look.
Liam blushed almost as much as the conductor had.
The farther they got from the city, the more dust that flowed around the train, so the empty land was hard to see in too much detail. The train hooted as they passed small settlements or individual Tunisians trekking through the desert.
Miles of olive groves lined either side of the train tracks as they approached El Jem. The air outside was hazy, but Aidan could make out the massive bulk of the amphitheater, said to have once held 13,000 people. He wondered where they had all come from.
Leaving the train station in El Jem, they both had to don sunglasses and ball caps, not only to protect from the sun but from the fine sand blowing in the air. Liam approached a young Tunisian and in Arabic, he asked where he could find a pharmacy, miming a problem with his stomach. The guy was very helpful, giving directions to two pharmacies. The one near the coliseum, he said, was the best; the pharmacist there spoke some English.
“Sounds like our guy,” Liam said to Aidan. He slung his duffle over his shoulder, and Aidan hitched up his backpack. He kept the guidebook open to the page with the map of El Jem to add to their authenticity, but the coliseum was easy to spot, towering over the city.
It was late morning by then, and the sun was high in the sky. The air was torturously hot, and they tried to stick close to the buildings to take advantage of the little shadow. The area around the coliseum was busy, cars and trucks navigating the narrow street, only an occasional date palm providing a bit of extra shade.
As they neared the pharmacy, Liam’s head swiveled, trying to see if there was anyone watching. “That’s our place,” he said, nodding to a single-story white stucco building. “I’ll stay outside. You go in and see what happens.”
“Shall I ask for the goldsmith?” Aidan asked. “What was his name?”
“Don’t know. His wife didn’t tell you?”
Aidan shook his head. “Guess I’ll have to wing it.” It felt good to say that, and believe it. With every day, he was getting back to the man he’d been before he settled down, the one willing to take chances and see what life held.
He adjusted his pack and pushed open the door to the pharmacy. Two men in white coats stood behind the counter. Both were in their late twenties, though the one with a customer appeared a few years younger. The older of the two was writing something when Aidan stepped up to him. “You speak English?” he asked.
“Yes, how I can help you?”
Aidan didn’t want to pull out Carlucci’s passport; that seemed too obvious. Then he remembered the amulet, which was still around his neck. “I have a rash here,” he said, opening his shirt to expose the amulet. He hoped that the man would recognize it for what it was, a token from the goldsmith’s wife.
The pharmacist looked up, and when he recognized the amulet Aidan saw fear rise in his eyes. “Is it serious?” Aidan asked.
“Yes, very serious,” the pharmacist said. Aidan saw the younger man look up at him, and then look out the front window toward Liam. He looked at Aidan again, and then walked behind the older man, opening a door into the back of the building.
“It is very dangerous for you,” the pharmacist said to Aidan in a whisper. He pushed a piece of paper toward Aidan, covered in strange characters, a weird mix of squared letters that looked like the bastard child of the Greek alphabet and mathematical symbols. “My friend says you should take this. Now you must go, fast.”
Aidan took the paper from him and turned toward the door. Behind him, he noticed the younger pharmacist had returned from the back, with a much older man. He recognized the older man and his shirt with the epaulets.
Aidan pushed out the front door at a run. “We have to get out of here. It’s the man from the souk, that Libyan.”
Liam took off and Aidan struggled to keep up with him, his backpack swaying on his shoulders and banging him in the ass. Behind them they heard the door of the pharmacy slam open, and shouting in Arabic.
Liam led them on a zigzag path, darting between trucks and down alleys. Though Aidan didn’t turn around, he had the sense that the two men were following them; he heard their footsteps, the occasional shouts of people behind them.
The bulk of the amphitheater loomed ahead of them. “In there,” Liam said, pointing. “Maybe we can lose them.”
They rushed past souvenir stands and stores selling crafts and antiques in the plaza around the amphitheater, and the smell of harissa from the food stalls made Aidan’s mouth water and reminded him that they were overdue for lunch.
Liam hurried through the entrance to the amphitheater, Aidan right behind him, and then made a sharp turn past the small museum, toward the underground passages and vaults, where Aidan had read that prisoners and animals were kept in Roman times. It was cool down there, the air smelling of mold and dust. The sweat on Aidan’s back chilled as they darted around corners, the sounds of angry Arabic following them.
Aidan’s heart was pounding and he knew he couldn’t run much further. He gasped for breath as Liam pulled him into a tiny space between two stone pillars, where they were sheltered from the main aisle. Aidan heard the two men approaching, and the sound of a bullet dropping in to the chamber of a gun echoed against the cold stone.
17 – Bus Ride
Aidan dropped his pack to the ground, and he and Liam stood with their backs to the cold stone wall as the two men who had been chasing them rushed past. The older one was still berating the younger one, an
d they didn’t notice the two Americans huddled in the niche. As soon as they’d passed, Liam put his finger to his lips and moved back the way they had come.
Even straining, Aidan couldn’t hear the bodyguard make a sound. He tried to imitate Liam’s soft footfalls without much success. They rounded a corner and surprised a group of German tourists, and there was much guffawing and jollity as the men in the group wanted to pat Aidan and Liam on the back and try out their basic English.
When they escaped, they returned to the entrance, where they rounded a corner to where a big tour bus was parked, with the door open. A Tunisian man with a clipboard stood next to the open door. “Hurry, please,” he said to them. “We are ready to be leaving.”
He made motions pushing them into the bus, and Liam stepped up into the cool interior, Aidan right behind him. The bus was only about half full, and Liam moved to a pair of empty seats toward the back. He motioned Aidan to the window seat and then sat beside him.
Aidan looked out the window and saw the two men from the pharmacy, the young one in the white coat and the older one with his epaulets. They rushed past the bus and turned down an alley. Aidan took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing pulse.
“Did you get anything from the pharmacist before you left?” Liam asked.
“Just this.” Aidan dug into his pocket and handed Liam the page with the strange characters. “Mean anything to you?”
“Looks like Tifinagh. The written language of the Tuareg.”
“Can you read it?”
Liam laughed. “I skipped Tifinagh when I was in the SEALs,” he said. “I know a little bit about a lot of things, but this isn’t one of them.”
The Tunisian tour guide shepherded the last Americans on the bus, a middle-aged couple with matching digital cameras around their necks, and then closed the door behind him. “Now we go to Matmata,” he said to the passengers. “You have seen the movies Star Wars?”
Several voices chorused yes. “We will see where movie was filmed,” he said. “And we will stay the night in the hotel. You will enjoy, yes?”
More yeses.
“Matmata’s south of here,” Liam whispered to Aidan. “So we might as well relax and enjoy the ride.” He reclined his seat, stretched his long legs in the aisle, and tipped his ball cap down over his eyes.
Aidan stared at him. How could he sleep, after all they had just been through? He wanted to poke the big bodyguard in the side, demand that he sit up with Aidan and go over every step of what had happened to them in agonizing detail. But within minutes Liam’s chest began to rise and fall in a regular rhythm.
Might as well get comfortable, Aidan thought. He reclined his seat, too, turning on his side so that his foot was just touching Liam’s. He thought back to that kiss in the bus station hallway, the way Liam had spun him around so easily, how comfortable it had felt to fall into Liam’s arms, no matter where they were. He shifted a little in the seat as his dick pronged up against his shorts, closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep himself.
Some time later, Aidan woke up and stretched, and his movement woke Liam. “Where are we?” Liam asked.
“Just outside a town called Gabes,” Aidan said. He looked out the window; every so often, he could catch a glimpse of Mediterranean, sparkling in the distance. As they pulled into town, the tour guide, whose name they discovered was Belghasem, recommended that they stop at the bakery across the road to try a gazelle's horn, a pastry filled with honey and nuts, so when the bus pulled up they did.
“This is delicious,” Aidan said. Liam was reviewing the map in the shade of the bakery’s awning. Belghasem was inside the bakery with the driver and a few of passengers; the others had fanned out through the town in search of postcards and souvenirs. “You think we should stay with the bus, or slip away while no one’s looking?” he asked Liam.
“We don’t know how far Zubran’s contacts go,” Liam said. “He knows we were in El Jem, so he may have figured out that we’re heading into the desert for a rendezvous with the tribe. He may have some of the train and bus stations down the line watched. If we stick with this group for a while, we’ll stay under his radar.”
“Fine with me,” Aidan said. “I’m getting to see the country.” Despite the momentary panic of being chased through El Jem, he was enjoying his little adventure.
Belghasem came out of the bakery and announced, “We will take a small walk now, to stretch your legs. Through the souk el henna in Jara, old quarter of city.”
Aidan looked at Liam, who shrugged, and they trailed along behind the guide. Aidan’s favorite stall was roofed over with transparent plastic, with baskets in many shapes jumbled everywhere. The rest of the market reminded him of an outdoor flea market, selling all kinds of junk. He bought several packages of locally-grown dates; who knew when they would get to eat again?
One of the specialties of the area was the production of henna, and two of the women on the tour opted for henna tattoos. Aidan was watching when he spotted a police officer patrolling the edge of the market. He elbowed Liam.
“It’s very hot,” Liam said to Belghasem, fanning himself. “We’re going to go back to the bus.”
“Very good, very good,” Belghasem said, nodding. “We will leave soon.”
“No use risking trouble,” Liam said, as they slid back through the market to the broad, sun-drenched street where the bus was parked, near the tall, square minaret of the local mosque. They saw a single police car crawling down the street, but managed to stay in the shadow of a stand of palm trees.
Both Aidan and Liam were feeling lazy and sleepy after the adrenaline rush of the morning, and then the long, warm bus ride. Leaving Gabes, the bus turned inland toward Matmata, and Aidan leaned against Liam’s shoulder. Liam rested his head on Aidan’s, and the two of them dozed off together, safe at least for the next hour or so.
18 – Matmata
As the tour bus approached Matmata, Aidan awoke to watch the drive through the arid and rocky Berber hills where tribesmen had excavated cave dwellings centuries before. Belghasem told them that thousands of people still lived in those homes, and that one of the largest was their hotel, the Sidi Driss. “Was home of Luke Skywalker in Star Wars cinema,” he said. “You will see movie pieces in hotel. Outside scenes filmed near Tozeur, far to west, but this place his home.”
When the bus pulled to a stop at the hotel in Matmata, Liam woke, yawning once and then looking around him. “We’ll let everyone else get off first,” he said. “See all the tour buses? We’ll fit in easily, and we should be able to find someone who can read the Tifinagh message the pharmacist gave you.”
“Do not worry about all tourists,” Belghasem said, as people began getting up and gathering their bags. “All buses will leave in one hour, then you have city to yourselves!”
Liam and Aidan looked at each other and laughed. So much for fitting in. From the outside, the hotel Sidi Driss looked like nothing special, a squat building with souvenir vendors out front. They waited until everyone else had gotten off the bus, hoping to slip away, but Belghasem was still waiting for them at the bus’s door, and he shepherded them into the lobby.
“Is best you stay here,” he said. “Men who look for you will not find you.”
Liam and Aidan looked at each other. So Belghasem had seen that they were being chased in El Jem, and offered them the refuge of the tour bus. Aidan vaguely remembered running past the bus on their way into the amphitheater; Belghasem must have noticed them then. “Thank you,” Aidan said.
As they walked in, it seemed like they had stepped into another galaxy, far, far away. The reception area was a cave with a low ceiling and walls plastered with Star Wars stickers. To their right, an enormous Darth Vader tapestry hung on the wall, while to their left was a passageway to a courtyard.
While the tour passengers checked in, Liam and Aidan explored the adjacent courtyard, hoping to escape from Belghasem’s watchful eye. “Why do you think he let us on the bus if he knew those men
were chasing us?” Aidan whispered.
Liam shrugged. “He’s probably going to hit us up for money for the bus ride as soon as the rest of the people have checked in.”
The closest courtyard was like the center ring of a coliseum, but in miniature. The walls around them shot up at least 20 feet, with arched passageways leading to more caves and corridors. For a moment, Aidan forgot he was underground; the very top of those soaring walls were ground level, meaning that they stood in an enormous pit.
The next courtyard was decorated with large plastic facades covered in weird knobs and metallic objects. The plastic set pieces were flimsy, designed to be filmed and not touched. The palm tree in one corner of the courtyard was hidden under a long plastic tube designed to look like a space-age duct. Aidan was astonished that so much of it was still in place, not sold on eBay as soon as the filmmakers left.
Belghasem appeared behind them. “Many houses here built like this,” he said. “Because desert temperatures, they go up and down much.”
Gently but deliberately, he led them back to the main lobby so that they could check in—but against Liam’s expectations he didn’t seem to want anything from them other than that they settle in. They had no choice but to step up to the desk, where a young Tunisian man greeted them in English. “Welcome to Matmata. May I have your name, please?”
Liam spoke to him in Arabic, and though Aidan didn’t understand the words, he got the meaning. The clerk saw Aidan’s lack of comprehension and answered Liam in English. “We have one room available.” He looked at them and smiled. “But there is only one bed. I believe that will be acceptable?”
Aidan’s gaydar started going off like mad. Well, what do you know, he thought. He smiled and said, “That will be just fine.”
The clerk smiled. “I am very happy. I am called Abbas. I will show you to the room myself.”
He led them back through the courtyard, off to a side hallway, and opened a door before them. The only thing in the cave was a single bare light bulb and a bed, but after their adventures of the morning it looked just fine.
Three Wrong Turns in the Desert Page 10
